34. Jezebel

CHAPTER 34

JEZEBEL

“ C ole, would you be interested in a trip in the Tide Pod ?” Dr. Blaylock asked. “Clint wants to switch to scuba with Jon and Witt this afternoon.”

I understood now why nobody visited this area. Today, we were anchored to the north of Skeleton Cay, off an uninhabited island called Windjammer Bank, home to a small forest, a few rocks, and hundreds of creepy plastic dolls. According to Dr. Blaylock, a container had fallen off a ship several years ago, and dolls, fly swatters, lawn chairs, bottles of hair product, and car parts had been washing up on beaches ever since.

Anyhow, unless you were a fan of swimming, tanning, or sleeping, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to do in the western outpost of San Gallicano. I’d tried reading a novel from the mini library in the saloon, but I’d given up fifty pages and thirty-seven factual inaccuracies later. No, there were no soldiers in the US Navy. Was the government hiding aliens at Groom Lake? I couldn’t possibly say. Okay, fine. I had no idea. It stood to reason that there was something interesting out there—a number of the folks who worked at the base were really fucking weird—but even Echo hadn’t managed to get into those files. Yet.

Cole glanced sideways at me. “Could you take Bella instead?”

“Certainly, if she wants to go,” Dr. Blaylock said in that agreeable manner of his.

Wait a second—Cole was fascinated by the sea and everything in it. “You should go.”

“Nah, I have to clean up in the galley.”

A lie, and I knew what he was doing. He was doing something sweet. Bastian would have waved as he hopped into the submersible, but Cole seemed to care more about my happiness than his own. Which was…weird.

And I actually liked the idea of taking a ride in the Tide Pod . Dr. Blaylock had spent one of our dinners on board the Crosswind explaining the technical details of the craft, so I was comfortable from a safety perspective. Plus we wouldn’t be going too deep, and in an emergency, I could shoot out the glass and perform a controlled emergency swimming ascent.

I had one more try at convincing Cole to go. “I can clean the galley.”

“Not your job, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Huh. I’d once shot a man who called me “sweetheart.” I mean, that wasn’t the only thing he’d done, but it was definitely a factor. When Cole used the nickname, it didn’t have the same anger-inducing effect, though.

“We might be able to fit in an extra trip later,” Dr. Blaylock said.

Cole waved a hand in an “off you go” gesture, and I grinned. Then realised I was grinning and turned that shit down immediately. Then wondered why I’d been grinning and found that I felt…happy? But a different kind of happy. No t the sense of satisfaction I usually experienced after the successful completion of a job, but something lighter.

I didn’t hate it.

No, I forced the smile back again, paused to brush my lips across Cole’s cheek, and followed Dr. Blaylock downstairs for a briefing.

My first thought as the Tide Pod sank into the water? Sin would hate this. Small spaces weren’t her thing, and the interior of the submersible was tiny.

My second thought? Wow. Few things awed me these days—I’d seen too much and done too much—but experiencing a hidden world in a different way than I usually did was fascinating. An octopus swam past, legs stretched out behind its body, and I followed its path as it dove under a distant rock. Visibility was excellent today, around a hundred feet.

“Octopi are fascinating creatures, don’t you think?” Dr. Blaylock didn’t wait for an answer. “Masters of camouflage, armed with ink and venom, and much smarter than most humans give them credit for.”

“I’ve only seen them swim like that once or twice before.”

“Swimming exhausts them. They have three hearts, you see—two that pump blood to the gills and one for the organs. When they swim, the organ heart stops beating, so they tend to prefer crawling.”

I never usually got this sort of commentary while diving. “If they’re venomous, I’m glad about that.”

“The only genus that poses a danger to humans is Hapalochlaena, the blue-ringed octopi. They’re found in the Pacific and Indian Oceans. And Caribbean reef octopi rarely swim deeper than sixty feet, so that’s probably the last one we’ll see today.”

“How about conchs? Will we see those?”

“Again, they tend to stay shallow. As they get older, they move a little deeper, but they rarely venture below a hundred feet. Keep an eye out as we pass the seagrass bed ahead—there might be one or two around.”

“When I went to get my sweater, I heard Clint say they’d seen hundreds of conchs. A Spanish Dancer and a nurse shark too.”

Maybe they’d found the breeding ground mentioned in that journal I’d seen? Before Dr. Blaylock offered a ride in his high-tech toy, I’d suggested to Cole that we make a quick dive to check it out, and I felt regret that he was stuck on the boat.

“Really?” He tilted the joystick in the centre of the control panel, and the Tide Pod headed for the seagrass. “Hundreds of them? Then hopefully we’ll get lucky. I don’t suppose we’ll spot any sea slugs, though. This craft is terrific for seeing the bigger picture, but you can’t get up close to study the small things. I miss checking out the nooks and crannies in a reef wall.”

“But you can go deeper in this thing.”

“With underwater research, deeper isn’t always better. Most of the good stuff is found near the surface, closer to the sunlight. If the doctors said I could go back to regular diving, I’d strap on my BCD in a heartbeat.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a silhouette above us, kicking strongly. The boys had followed us into the water. Witt? I thought it was Witt, but the sand was stirred up over there—did he have problems maintaining buoyancy? No way would he have made a Navy SEAL. I watched until he disappeared out of sight behind a lumpy rock formation and then turned my attention back to the seagrass we were approaching.

“There are your conchs,” Dr. Blaylock said, pointing to shells among the sand-covered greenery. “See?”

I did, but they really weren’t that interesting. Just pretty shells lying on the seabed. The turtle swimming slowly in the background was more entertaining. Almost graceful in the way it moved through the water. Maybe in the future, I should make more time to dive recreationally? Vacations hadn’t ever been important to me, but this trip had been an eye-opener in so many ways.

Diving in the Tide Pod was wonderfully civilised—no salt-tangled hair; no red marks from my face mask; no oversized, borrowed fin wedged on over my cast; no immersion diuresis making me pee in my wetsuit. But ultimately, I missed the freedom of scuba. We saw a nurse shark, but it was like watching on TV rather than experiencing the proximity for myself. I understood why Dr. Blaylock missed his BCD.

If I lost something I loved, nothing would compensate.

The stars were bright tonight.

There was no light pollution in the middle of nowhere, and the constellations reflected in Cole’s eyes as I straddled him.

The others had retired to bed after dinner, but we’d headed up to the sundeck instead. The days were ticking down, and although we hadn’t put our feelings into words, neither of us wanted to waste any of our time together.

Which was why I’d shucked my shorts, pushed my bikini bottoms to the side, and taken a ride on my favourite part of his anatomy. Echo probably had eyes on us, but it was dark. Even the best spy satellites couldn’t see well at night. She might get a grainy blob if she was lucky. Yes, I’d forgiven her for sending me on this trip now, but I was absolutely going to let her stew.

“Are you close?” Cole groaned.

“Uh-huh.”

Sex was about more than orgasms now. We were so damn comfortable with each other’s bodies. But I’d been holding back, edging for the win. I was teetering on the flickering precipice. Instead of falling, I leaned forward, resting my hand on Cole’s collarbone, applying enough pressure that he understood. I wanted him to feel what I did.

“Do it.”

“You sure?” I whispered.

“I trust you.”

He trusted me, but he didn’t know me. I’d lost count of the number of lives I’d taken, but for the first time in my life, I felt real all-consuming guilt. My instincts screamed at me to leave, but I was a fucking professional and I never, ever quit.

I slid my hand forward and squeezed, locking my regrets away as I let the orgasm consume me. Cole followed as I clenched around him, and I shifted my hand to his mouth an instant before he cried out. We didn’t need a damn audience.

I took my hand away.

“I lo—” he started.

I put my hand back.

“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t do it. I’ll come see you in Vegas if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare tell me you love me.”

He smiled under my fingers, and I rocked back, ready to take further measures if necessary.

“Can I tell you that I like you? ”

“If you must.”

“I’ve never come so hard before. My legs are shaking.”

“I know.”

He reached up and cupped my cheek with a hand. “I’m glad you picked me up in the bar that night.”

“For better or worse, so am I.”